Sadomasochist's
by MidKnight-Hikari
Summary: They both loved pain. They finally found their match. Psychoshipping
1. Fresh From Prison

**Sadomasochist's **

They love pain and torture, sexual or not. They go to lengths to torture someone till they scream bloody murder, shrieking their name to stop the stabbing, cutting, piercing and biting.

The one known as Bakura- erratic, snow white hair, very pale skin with a tinge of red in his crazy eyes and a body that looked painfully thin- loved the dead. Everything about it, their white bones, the rotting skin, the grave they lay in forever, even rigor mortis was fascinating to him. He loved the dead to the point where it was physical; his heart pumping when he scrape through mud and rock to open up a coffin or just a dead body, ripping off their decorative jewellery and clothes. Offending luxuries that these mortals put on the dead sickened him; a corpse was beautiful without fakery. In 2003, they made a law about necrophilia, saying it was illegal to 'defile' a corpse, saying it's disrespectful to the dead. This made the white haired man furious, his eyes fired up in negative emotions. Of course, an attraction was never easy to grow out of. However, he paid the price of his desire...

* * *

Then there was Mariku- a fair skinned Egyptian, with crazy, sandy blonde hair which stuck out in many angles but looked like they were carefully placed, his eyes were a dark, sinister violet, he had quite a toned body, one that wasn't over the top with muscle and his trademark smirk that has many signals- loved innocent woman. He been with many people in his lifetime, but innocent woman were the best. Then to his findings, little girls were the most innocent. He adored roughness from woman every now and then, but defiling a little innocent girl with no idea of the real world was pleasure to him. He lures lost, scared, little girls towards him, whispering sweet nothings to the angels he seeks. The classical saying of 'I'll help you find your mother' or 'I have sweets' always work for little girls under the age of 10. Once he gains their trust-which wasn't hard- he brings them back to his shitty apartment, locking all the doors and doing as he pleases. Oh how he loves the cries and pleas of the innocence, they screech through the night in hopes Mariku will stop everything, for the damage to be undone. Although, no matter how much they scream, the mental scars will never go away...

Mariku was caught one day, he was caught by the mother of the child he cornered- apparently the screams were loud enough for a searching mother to hear, Mariku assumed he was too engulfed by the delicious screams to even notice- in which led to a police confession. Mariku spent three years in prison, lucky for him it wasn't on TV or in newspaper's, so he spent the next three years alone, in a cold cell with a solid bed, waiting for the pleasure that been eating him away since day one in that cold, metal hell.

* * *

The day he was released was an achievement, he survived through three years of hell and the most cliché rumours of prison life. The first thing he encounter which made him want to hang himself was his cell mate. The fact that he was gay didn't effect Mariku the slightest, it's when he actually touched him, that's when his skin crawled. The one hour of exercise was the best time of the day, for a start, you could move more than a five steps before turning around. But the thing that took No.1 on Mariku's 'despise with passion' list, was the soap in the showers. The most fucking cliché thing to joke about in prison life, the memory was a mere blur but never the less, fucking irritable.

The day he was released, was the day he found another soul with such similar desires as he had...

It was dark and gloomy-as usual- in the estate which Mariku resided in, walking down the damp and debris filled alley. He didn't expect anyone to actually be out-his memory failed him to keep his guard up where he use to live in- to which surprised him when he was brutally shoved against the wall, his hands restricted on either side of him and his legs skilfully locked with the attackers legs. It was a precarious position, one Mariku was familiar of doing years ago, it could go either way...

The attackers face was hard to decipher, the light made his very long, white hair shine gracefully, his eyes lit a glowing reddish brown while his face was covered with the darkness of the shadows, his features twisted into a sinister, Cheshire cat grin.

"Nice hair, can I run my knife through it-I mean my hand?" He asked sarcastically, his face close to his own, feeling his hot breath and smelling blood coming from his breath. It wasn't repulsive; it was actually intriguing to Mariku. The blond made his move, clamping his teeth around the attacker's neck, his sharp fangs piercing his skin. The reaction was something he didn't expect, the man chuckled lowly at him, his hands gripping at Mariku's wrists more fiercely, enough to leave a very faint bruise. "Playing rough, are we?" He kicked the joint In Mariku's left leg from the side, causing him to lose his footing, a perfect timing for the white haired man to successfully pin him to the floor.

Naturally, Mariku struggled; it seems all the knowledge of fighting with people from his home estate vanished, replaced with all the memories of prison. He couldn't deny that this made his heart beat rapidly against his rib cage, the thrill of being pinned and unable to move, possible death waiting just around the corner-however, he would never admit that, his facial expression was hard and rigid and he was planning to keep it like that until the very end of this whole scenario.

The man on top of him smirked, he knew how Mariku really felt, he felt it many times before, which makes this all the more better, having another person to play along with his games just as enthusiastically.

'Now it's time to play...' Bakura gave a grin before bringing his face closer to Mariku's own, the shadows effectively hiding most of his identity, making the tanned man slightly agitated knowing he won't be able to recognize this white creature again if they ever so happened to cross paths. He would have to change that soon...

"Don't bother trying to hide what you really feel; I know how you find this exciting." He could tell he's been in prison, he saw a too familiar tattoo on his neck, quite small, but it stuck out for the thief to notice. 'He must have been there for some time and from the looks of it, he's recently been released...'

It made Bakura smirk; he must really be desperate for something that gives him the pleasure, like drugs, a proper cigarette, sex or just a kill. So, what has he been waiting for ever since the day he was imprisoned? It made the white haired man curious to know hat made him go off.

"F-fuck off!" Mariku barked at him, kicking his leg fiercely, the move was unexpected to Bakura, in which made him fall on the toned man. The blond naturally acted quick, shoving him off hard and getting to his feet. He only managed to walk five steps before the joint in his leg gave way, making him stumble and fall to his knees.

'The bastard...'

"Oh?" The other snickered, clearly amused by how Mariku stumbled to the uninviting floor. He approached slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Mocking Mariku as he pulled out a little switch blade, standing behind the Egyptian while the knife was inches away from Mariku's neck.

"So-" The albino looking man started, grazing the back of the knife onto Mariku's neck, feeling the velvet surface irritate his skin, tiny specks of metal scratching and sinking into his dark flesh. He wanted to claw out the metal to where the blood lies under his skin, he couldn't so much as rub his neck without his hand getting cut with the knife positioned.

Mariku finally let out a grunt of distress, Bakura smirking with a flash of white teeth when he painfully and slowly dragged the metallic object in all directions on his hyper sensitive neck.

"-What makes you, bright eyes, tick?" The one known as Bakura vexed, dragging the blade slightly deeper on the word 'tick' for emphasis.

* * *

_AN: Well... this is a start to one of my favourite couples, Psychoshipping._


	2. I Want Partnership

**Sadomasochist's**

_AN: I wish I updated more... -Laziness-_

* * *

If Mariku was pissed off before, then the irritating feeling took over him ten fold. The action was so simple yet so fucking annoying to the point where he would do anything, _anything_, to stop it. He was so close to screaming out in aggravation that it was unreal. He let out a long, exasperated whine, seeing as the outside life of prison was just teasing instead of painful. He rather be pummelled by fists and kick in the face till he turned black and blue instead of this. The Egyptian would never admit this though, he was too proud to admit verbally how this made feel. Made him want to give up. He felt weak just by thinking off it briefly.

Bakura smirked at the reaction, the delicious reaction that gave him a kick into taking his teasing to the next level, to make any mortal beg not to even lay a finger on their skin. However, despite how much he wanted to continue-which was so tempting that he was dying on the inside of how he planned this to go- he had to stop, slowly dragging the knife back, away from his neck. To Mariku's relief, he let out a sigh, rubbing his neck firmly, the lingering, scratchy feeling melting away with his touch. The tanned one didn't let his guard drop, he knew that man had something installed for him and frankly, it made him anxious to see what was to be unfold.

"You haven't answered my question," Bakura growled, his arm wrapped around the base of the other's neck- giving a firm tug, physically saying he was impatient. The position they were in was quite a precarious one at that, Mariku was in front and open wide for any surprise attacks from any 'friends' his captor had. For Bakura, he was in the greatest of places, he could whip out any weapon and the victim wouldn't even know what hit them.

"Tch..." Mariku let out a silent grunt, he was against admitting his true source of bliss, for the police confession three years ago hit nerves between a particular police officer. They somehow got hold of the information of all the children he defiled and that one of them was the officer's little angel. The man's face was priceless, turning a sickly pale and his features flaring up in anger and pure hatred. Receiving a broken nose at the end and a few bruises over his body but no real damage to say he survive through pure agony.

Another tug to say that his patience was wearing dangerously thin, followed by a distressed growl. What made Mariku puzzled was why the pale devil wanted to know his source of pleasure, it was an unusual question, unless using it for their own advantage.

A provoked sigh was driven out of the victim of assault, seeing as his position was inevitable and he wasn't making this better for the both if them. What hurt could this information bring? He's done his time, there's no worry.

"Little girls..." Mariku mumbled, the words rolled off his tongue smoothly, almost seductively. Bakura's eyes lit up, the little information that meant almost nothing making him more interested in this character.

"Go on... surely there must be more hidden pleasures underneath that tough exterior," he questioned with a hushed voice, the situation becoming increasingly uncomfortable for Mariku. Another thing that tugged on the blond's mind was what did the creepy bastard enjoy? Something that he craves for?

"I answered your question!" Mariku snapped, turning his head sharply to see those piercing red eyes. The look would've made most people wither, unfortunately the male needed a lot more than just a stare to break him down. "What about you, what pleasures you!"

Bakura chuckled lowly, his tongue dragged over his gleaming white teeth. The whitenette leaned forward to press his mouth right next to the tan one's ear, making sure to breath heavily on each syllable. He wanted to freak out this man before announcing what he had in mind.

"Dead people." The two words seem to slow the world down and make his blood run cold, he jerked away from the male, almost too fiercely. The man with the violet eyes ended up on the floor once again, looking up to see the face of the deep voice.

'He's touched... and fucked...' The thought of it made him gag inwardly. Necrophilia. He's a necrophiliac! In all Mariku's life, he never thought he would stumble upon one.

"That's just-"

"Sick? Twisted?" Bakura grinned, flashing a perfectly cut, sharp fang, gleaming in all it's glory. "Erotic?"

The tanned male seem to be lost for words, needing a minuet to recollect his thoughts. During this, the pale bloke pulled away, sitting on the floor and crossing his legs. His plan has been successful, now it's time to confess.

"I need your help." The words were a surprise, influencing Mariku to give the whitenette a strange look, almost repulsed in a way. Before he could say anything, the other continued. "I know you've been in prison, I know you live alone-" How does he know...? "I want to make a partnership."

Too many questions bubbled to the surface of the Egyptians mind to think clearly. Why did he want partnership? Hell, why did he want to know about his source of pleasure? And how the fuck did he lived alone?

"Wait- hold on a minuet! How the fuck do you know where you live?"

"That's not important."

"That's just-"

"Shut it!" Bakura snapped so suddenly, effectively shutting Mariku. The pale devil let out a prolonged sigh, calming himself down from the slight anger. "It's not important how I know you, or how I know where you live. I know you will start to crave those delicious screams of a little girl-" Bakura purposely says the words in husky voice, silent and smooth, with a hint of desperation to push at the tanned male.

"-the tightness, the rush of adrenalin of potentially getting caught, the-" Mariku didn't need to hear any more. It's been a while since he's seen a erotic woman, let alone a fuck and Bakura's words were starting to conjure up mental images.

"OK, I get it. What exactly do you want in this 'partnership'." Mariku questioned and Bakura smirked.


	3. Settled

**Sadomasochists**

**Chp.3 Settled**

After two hours of silent stares and Bakura talking-Mariku listening eagerly- they both sat on the dirt cheap leather settee Mariku found by luck from the high street market, everything Bakura said so easily still processing through his mind. Bakura knows him more than any other person out there in the grimy world, Mariku chose to not have friends, only partners, which would be better fitted as a pointless memory of trivial 'work'.

To sum all the information short, Bakura needed a place to stay, he has no strings attached, the whitenette has already done his time in prison for his necrophilia acts and it made the situation all the more better, now that Mariku has just finished.

"So...?" Bakura asked carefully, breaking the deafening silence.

"I need a drink..." Mariku replied, moving towards the dusty kitchen, he wasn't one for cleaning but it was a disgrace. The paranoid man reached for the coffee tin as well as a spoon and cup, he didn't even bother with the kettle, using the unfiltered tap water and nothing more. After mixing in the mixture as much as he could- seeing as most of the coffee particles weren't going to dissolve in such tepid water- he took fast sips, not even looking directly at the white-haired male walking in.

"Feel better?" The other mocked, giving a smirk to the fully open stressed Egyptian, despite Mariku's efforts, he wasn't one to hold back emotions. It was a mix of stress and confusion.

"No." Was the reply. "It's not everyday you meet a damn..." He cut himself off, turning his attention to his poorly made coffee. It was horrible but at least it distracted him.

"You're acting dramatic, It's not like I'm addicted to the dead." His expression turned serious, almost offended. "Do you think I don't take precautions?" He asked, eyes narrowing.

To be honest, Mariku never really thought about Necrophilia at all, not in his life. But here he is, standing in front of one.

"Don't act that _I'm_ the fucked up one here, you're the one who feels up little kids." It shouldn't have hit Mariku that hard but that sentence stirred up negative emotions, dropping his cup to throw a powerful punch right at the pale one rib's. Bakura's eyes widened once the bronze fist collided at his frame, hearing an unhealthy crunch and feeling all the air in his lungs escape due to his power. The whitenette fell to the hard ground with a thump, coughing and spluttering, he completely forgot who he was dealing with and his toned body seem to miss him at his moments of teasing.

A few seconds of Mariku's cold stare and Bakura's heavy breathing, they went at each other. Biting, clawing, punching and kicking resulted in a mess of limbs in god knows what time of the morning. In the end, the two were lying on the floor, panting heavily and drained to the limit. The bronze male body was sprawled out on his back, while Bakura was on his stomach, more or less resting on Mariku's torso. Their clothes were in shreds, dots of blood appearing on the fabric, nobody would think twice of throwing them away.

The pair's practically flawless skin was now ruined and bruised. The blond featuring an exact, horizontal cut across his cheek, leaking a fine trial of ruby-red, along with a few bite marks on his body. Bakura adorned with a dark bruise on his left eye, contrasting quite openly against his pale skin and a light cut against his lip. Other than the obvious injuries, they both receive a copious amount of cuts, marks and bruises along their bodies, they didn't expect to go on for so long or so hard.

All that was heard at the early hour was their breaths, evening out slowly. They both glanced at each other for a few mere seconds before laugher bubbled in their chest's, then exploding in a laughing fit. Their bodies shook with effort, hurting all over but the pain making it all the more enjoyable.

After their laughter died down, giggling still over their high, they say up, groaning at how stiff and sore their frames have become of their fight.

"Your not so bad...partner." The last part was added very lowly, almost seductive if Mariku hadn't of known better. The toned man nodded in response, all sentimental value drained. They got up in silence, both grimacing from the pain that felt like electricity around their bodies.

Bakura stuck a hand out towards Mariku, both knowing what it meant. A silent agreement, all the terms he stated; stick together no matter what; no secrets and the most important one, no friendship. This was for benefits only, for desirable pleasure, friendship would ruin everything. Caring about each other would just cause trouble.

He took his hand In a firm hand shake, both their faces empty, void of emotion. The pair could imagine the future drama that'll happen between them, inevitable punches and marks to come along the way.

What they seem to share... What they seem to cope with at least... Is that they enjoyed every fucking minuet of that fight.


End file.
